


And Thus They Fly

by Laora



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Agender Rhyme, Beat + Rhyme swap AU, Gen, i originally just wanted to write a rhyme lives au help, this is gonna be a fic about character growth and relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laora/pseuds/Laora
Summary: Rhyme's Partner saves their life at the cost of his own.Something grows in their Soul—something warm and sharp and blinding. They areso sickof being weak.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't completed yet, but I have a plan for it—I'm hoping for weekly updates! It'll probably have 4 or 5 chapters? ~~but honestly i have no idea since my word count estimates are notoriously off-target~~  
>  and also writing this might be a lil slower in October bc of twewytober but i guess we'll see!!
> 
> also, big personal announcement: this chapter marks 1 million words posted to my account! which is! a _lot_ of words what the fuck sldkfjaosdfalfj it is equally exciting and terrifying bc wow
> 
> ALSO ALSO, @MintChini over on twitter did art for this same au a couple weeks back and it is Amazing and yall should go [look at it](https://twitter.com/MintChini/status/1307103131457777665?s=20)

Everything happens so fast.

Rhyme was winning the race to Towa Records—Beat was letting them win, maybe, with that strange look in his eye that he got sometimes, despite the ever-present smile. But the important thing is that they were ahead of him, and he was moving slower, probably, than he could've been—because then Beat cried out, something like panic in his voice. Rhyme had never heard anything like it; they skidded to a halt, turning in alarm.

Beat hurtled toward them, his face the color of chalk, and then he pushed them away, sent them flying, and then there was a flash and a moment of searing pain and now—

Now Rhyme's staring at a heavy necklace lying alone on the pavement, its skull pendant still rolling to a stop from the momentum of its fall. Its owner isn't there, and there's a gaping hole in their heart where their Pact used to be, and Rhyme stares and stares and _stares_ as Shiki and Neku run toward them. Their mouths are moving—Shiki looks horrified, and even Neku's alarmed, shouting something and reaching into his pocket for pins as Noise materializes around them.

They're talking to each other, planning their strategy before they're flipped to the Noise plane, and Rhyme can see their lips moving but can't hear a word of it past the ringing in their ears. Beat was here, and now he's not, and he saved them from Erasure except now they don't have a Partner, they have no way of playing the Game and—

The warmth of his hands still lingers, pressed against their collarbones for that precious moment before he was stolen away. His necklace is in their hand, now, the broken links digging into the soft skin of their palm except they barely feel the pain. It's heavy—heavier than they expected—and their grip is shaking so badly that they nearly drop it into their lap.

They can't do that. They have to protect this chain. It's their—their Partner's necklace. And Beat—he _saved_ them, he got Erased to make sure they would be okay, and tears well up unbidden because—

"Rhyme!" Shiki says, loudly, and maybe they lost some time because their friend is in front of them now, gripping at their shoulders and breathing hard. "Rhyme, can you hear me?"

They blink, several times, and look past Shiki for a moment when Neku shouts something at two figures further out. Reapers, they think—they've got wings. One of them has pink hair that reminds them of Day 1, the day they met Beat—

~~that isn't right~~

Shiki's fingers are cold even through their sweater, and Neku's voice wavers more than Rhyme's expecting, and the next time they blink the Reapers are gone, and a tall man in a pink shirt is standing in front of them instead. "C'mon, kiddo, up you get," he says, and then Rhyme is on their feet, though they're shaking badly enough that their knees feel set to give out at any moment. "We've gotta go, you've only got about three minutes before—"

They can't listen. They can't understand. They feel Shiki's hands fall away from their shoulders. "Mr. H will take care of you," she says, sorry assurance in her wavering voice as she tries for a smile. "We'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Rhyme does not remember the too-fast trip to the café on Cat Street. They do not remember Mr. H going fuzzy and bright for a moment before returning with a pin, emblazoned with a raging bull.

They do remember, vividly, the new ~~wrong~~ Pact they make with what's left of Beat. The Pact that will keep them alive, Mr. H explains, until the end of the Game.

They remember the gaping hole they feel in their Soul even after all of this, and they wonder what they could still be missing when they have already lost so much.

* * *

They cry, a lot, once they've gotten settled in the café with a cup of cocoa and a blanket.

The blanket is heavy and warm over their shoulders, and the cocoa doesn't spill no matter how badly their hands shake. But Beat's pin burns, affixed to the front of their sweater, and the gaping hole in their chest hasn't filled one bit because Beat— _Beat—_

They've known him for barely four days. Why do they feel so—

"Hey, kiddo," Mr. H says quietly. He sits down opposite them in the booth, and leans his elbows on the table. "Can I getcha anything?"

They hiccup, and squeeze their eyes shut, and shake their head. "Why did you help us?" they ask, barely a whisper, but Mr. H seems to understand them anyway.

"You've got some Imagination on you," he says, his tone warmer. "Didn't think it was fair for you to get knocked out so early in the Game, to somethin' so cheap. Y'know, it's not often that a Game gets _four_ real promisin' players."

"But Beat got Erased," they say, and need to swallow before continuing. "I can't win, I'm not doing the missions—"

"But _you're_ not Erased," Mr. H points out, "and Beat's not gone, not for good. You'll have options, at the end of the week, once Phones and the young lady beat this week's GM."

They think on this, and they breathe. "You think they'll win?" they ask, their voice very small, and Mr. H's smile grows.

"I'd stake the city on it, kid."

It's strange phrasing. They don't have the mental energy to think on it further. "You're not calling me a girl," they say instead, curling in on themselves a little more. Everyone calls them a girl, at first, even Shiki—but not Mr. H. Not Beat, either. It's a good feeling, to be acknowledged as who they are, but it's strange to have people pick up on it without asking.

"Well, that's 'cause you're not one," Mr. H says, and cocks his head.

"I'm not," they whisper. "But no one knows that. Just you and Beat."

Mr. H hums. "The UG has its perks," he says, eventually. "Makes it easier to see people as themselves, in a way. And I'm not in the business of makin' people uncomfortable, y'know?"

That may explain him. That may explain Beat. But that doesn't explain Shiki, or the Reapers who called them _girlie_ , or—or—

They duck their head, wiping at their eyes. It doesn't matter anymore, does it? Beat's gone. All they can do now is wait, helpless, for three days until the end of the Game decides their fate. "Thank you," they whisper to their knees. It's for more than the gender thing, and Mr. H seems to understand.

"Don't mention it," Mr. H says, and waves a hand as he sits back in his seat. "I wanna see you kids win almost as much as you do."

* * *

Rhyme only has vague memories of their death.

They know they must have died—it's called the Reapers' Game, after all, and people talked like winning meant they could come back to life. So, it stands to reason that they must have all died to enter it, right?

Their last memories of life, they think, are of their brother—larger than life, overbearing, but full of love, always. They remember sunshine, and maybe they remember pain, but there's nothing else there, no matter how hard they try.

Maybe it's the trauma of it, making them forget. Some of the TV shows their mom likes to watch talk about stuff like that. Maybe—hm, maybe it even has something to do with their Entry Fee. But, they haven’t had anyone to ask. Beat and Shiki both seemed like they didn’t want to talk about their own deaths, when Rhyme asked—and Shiki explained that all of Neku’s memories are gone.

(That explains why he’s so grumpy, at least—and Rhyme feels some sympathy for him, even though they know he’d hate it. They’d be scared, too; knowing is half the battle, after all, and waking up with that timer, not even knowing where you are or what the Game is—well.

Rhyme had plans to try and help him relax and open up, as the four of them collaborated for the rest of the week. But they guess that’s all gone now.)

WildKat Café is a nice enough place, they've decided, by the time Day 5 dawns. Mr. H seems trustworthy too, even if he refuses to explain his role in the Game. But—now that they think about it—maybe even if he won’t (or can’t) tell them about himself, maybe he could tell them other things, instead.

“Mr. H?” they ask from their corner booth, where they’re curled up with a book he scrounged from the back room.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he calls, leaning against the bar, looking up at them from where he’s been writing something down.

“I was wondering if you could tell me how I died,” they say, and Mr. Hanekoma’s brows shoot way up.

“What, y’don’t remember?” he asks after another moment, hesitating before putting his pen down. “What makes you think _I’d_ know?”

“Shiki said you gave her and Neku all sorts of advice,” they insist. “You told them that you’re a guardian angel for the Game, right? So you know how it all works?”

“Wouldn’t call me an _angel,”_ Mr. Hanekoma protests, half-heartedly, but there’s a little smile on his face as he seems to take a closer look at Rhyme. “I can tell you, if you really want me to. But usually, folks who come through with memory loss forgot stuff for a reason.”

They swallow, and look down at their hands. They try very hard not to think about the fact that they can’t remember their brother’s name, or even what he looks like. “Please,” they say, very quietly, and Mr. Hanekoma sighs. For a moment, his gaze goes unfocused as he stares through them.

"You were hit by a car," he says, his voice lower. "You were chasing B̴̢̨̜͙̺̮͙̬̗̖̯̟̩̪͈͎̭͉͙̝̯͗͌̄̑͒͐̒̋͊͐͜͜͠͠ẹ̴͙̜̣̳̯͔̙̘̑̆̈́̃͒̓͜ą̶̝͔̭̪̬͓̞̝͕͎̳͍͚̮̥̳̼̟̯͐̎͋̃̌̇ţ̸͚̙̳̖͔͍̭̞̱̺̄͂͐̒͒̃͛͠͝͠, and didn't check before crossing the street."

They blink at him. The café is quiet, with just the quiet hum of the A/C in the background. Why couldn't they hear— "I was chasing who?" they ask, tilting their head. But when Mr. Hanekoma repeats himself, all Rhyme hears is static.

He frowns, a little, and his mouth moves more deliberately this time. It's a simple shape, a word they should probably be able to lip-read, but there's a stab of pain in their skull when they try. They squeeze their eyes shut, reaching for their head.

Mr. Hanekoma is quiet for several seconds longer, then he swears under his breath. "You were chasing your brother," he revises, and for some reason the words come through just fine. For some reason, there's something heavy in his tone. When Rhyme lifts their head again, he has his glasses in his hand as he rubs at his eyes. "You were chasing your brother."

* * *

Their brother saw them die, then.

It settles like a pit in their gut as they sit in silence, as the sun moves across the sky and makes shadows on the walls. Their brother—headstrong and impulsive and _loving_ above all else—watched them get hit by a car, watched and could do nothing about it. They don't know his name, anymore, but they know he would've absolutely _torn himself apart_ over it.

They can't imagine his face, twisted in grief. Somehow, they find that this is a mercy.

* * *

"Just one day left," Mr. H says, standing as the timer disappears from Rhyme's hand. _Dominate the view,_ their phone said. They have no idea what that could've meant, but at least Shiki and Neku managed to figure it out. "How're you feeling?"

They swallow, and clench their fists. They've never felt so useless in their entire life. "Horrible," they say, because they know Mr. H will appreciate the honesty. They're rewarded with a throaty chuckle.

"Just gotta wait a little longer," he says. "This time tomorrow, you'll be in front of the Conductor, gettin' a readout on your scores."

"Is that when we get our Entry Fees back?" they ask, leaning forward a little. They've been thinking on this, left alone for so long with just their thoughts, and they've decided that their Fee must have been their memories of their brother. It's the only thing that makes sense, and—

"Yup," Mr. H says, but he squints a little at them. "Y'know, Reincarnation ain't the only thing you can choose, at the end. You'd make a decent Reaper—all three of you would, if you're interested. The UG'd be happy to have you."

They physically recoil, their hands tightening into fists. Just when they were thinking of Mr. H as kind and good-hearted, then he goes and says _that._ "I have to get back to my brother," they say stubbornly, frowning. Mr. H's stare is piercing. "I'm only twelve, I'm not going to—"

"There's a reason most of the field Reapers are young," he interrupts casually. "They find it easier to pursue their dreams with one foot in a higher plane. The UG breeds Imagination, y'know."

Dreams, huh? Funny, Rhyme doesn't see the appeal. After all, they don't remember ever having one. "What other options are there?" they press, and Mr. H sighs.

"If you don't make the cut for Reincarnation, there's Erasure, or playing the Game all over again," he says, tilting his head. There's something in his expression, like he's curious how they'll react. Like they're something he's never quite seen before. "Not too many people go for either."

They swallow. Playing again, Partnering with some stranger for another small chance at survival—it's terrifying, but really, it wouldn't be the worst option, would it? Better than becoming new Players' worst nightmare—better than losing everything, after trying so hard to hold it close. After Beat gave _everything_ to make sure they kept living, it feels unconscionable. "I'll do whatever it takes," they say, steel creeping into their voice. Their brother deserves to have them in his life—and it's what Beat would have wanted for them, too.

Mr. H's smile grows, and grows, and grows. "The RG'll be lucky to have you, kiddo," he says with a flash of teeth, and then he flickers out of sight.

* * *

Rhyme stares up at the Conductor of Shibuya, Shiki and Neku at their side, and wonders what could lead someone like him to join the Reapers.

"The Composer has chosen only one of you for Reincarnation," Kitaniji says, staring at each of them in turn. Maybe it's their mind playing tricks on them, or maybe his gaze lingers a little too long on the bull pin, still stuck fast to their sweater. "Shiki Misaki—"

She argues with him, tears shining in her eyes. Neku, she argues, was better at fighting—was better at riddles—was better at _everything._ It stands to reason that he would be the winner—

But Rhyme sees something glinting behind those dark glasses. They don't like it one bit; it tells them that this is far beyond their control. There's something else going on, here. "Just wait for us, okay?" they say, grabbing Shiki's hand, and she jumps, stares down at them. "Neku and I will catch up with you."

Kitaniji's eyeing them appraisingly, and tears spill over Shiki's cheeks as she grasps for Neku's hand, and Rhyme swallows as four become three. "Raimu Bitou," the Conductor says, then, and they turn to him with a frown. "You would make an exceptional Reaper. We have an open Harrier position—an instant promotion. I could even teach you to use that pin you hold so dear."

They clench their jaw, plant their feet. Mr. H said the same thing, but Kitaniji's tone feels more like a predator, lulling them to sleep before he strikes. "I want to go back to the RG, whatever it takes," they say, and see Neku's jaw clench, beside them. —"I miss my brother, and I know he’s a mess without me—”

"Reapers have free access to the RG, child, if that's the only thing that's stopping you," he says, something like condescension in his tone, and Rhyme's frown only grows.

"I'm not joining you," they say, louder. "You'll let me play again, right?"

"Rhyme," Neku says, an edge to his tone, but they ignore him. Kitaniji looks at Rhyme, long and hard. Then, he looks at Neku. There's something different in his gaze, now.

"Only if Sakuraba does the same," he says. Rhyme turns to look at Neku, and sees that he's grinning.

"That was gonna be my next question, asshole," he says, and Rhyme can't help the smile growing on their face, as well. "How about we get those Fees back, first?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY YEA YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK IT. HAVE CHAPTER 2. I'VE WRITTEN ALMOST NOTHING BEYOND THIS BUT I'M PROUD OF THIS AND MAYBE THE TWO (TWO!!!!) ANNOUNCEMENTS TOMORROW WILL GET ME BACK INTO WRITING THIS THING BC I LOVE IT, SO MUCH
> 
> small warnings for misgendering (unintentional, and neku apologizes when rhyme tells him their pronouns) and harmful stimming (scratching)

Neku...isn’t how they remember him. Which is kind of incredible, considering it’s only been three days since they last met.

He’s still brusque, and struggles with eye contact, and never says more than he needs to—but he seeks them out, when they both wake up again on the fringes of the Scramble Crossing. “You okay?” he asks, offering a hand to help them up off the ground. A woman in the RG rushes through him as she tries to beat the light; he doesn’t even flinch. “Do you have your Fee back?”

They accept the hand up, and take inventory. They think that maybe they feel more—optimistic? Hopeful?—for the future, than they did yesterday. Maybe that’s because they know what they’re doing, now, or maybe—

They want to try out theater at school. They want to write a book. They want to steal their dad’s toolset and tinker with jewelry and metal and—

And how on earth did they forget that, last week? They told Mr. H that they didn’t have any dreams—that must’ve been—

“I think so,” they say, and try very hard to sound confident. Somehow, they think Neku wouldn’t judge them, even if they couldn’t. “What about you?”

“Most of it,” he mutters, and reaches up to adjust his headset. “I still—Shades said he didn’t take my memories of my death, but they’re still gone.”

“I don’t remember dying, either!” they say. “Maybe it’s just something our brains did. Mr. H ended up telling me what happened, so...”

He blinks at them. “Maybe I could ask him, too,” he says, and it almost comes out like a question, so they nod encouragingly.

“We should check the mission first, though—and, do you want to be Partners this week?”

“Kinda assumed we would be,” Neku mutters, his cheeks flushing a little as he looks down and away. Oh, gosh, Beat would lose his _mind_ seeing Neku embarrassed. They stifle a smile at the thought.

When he sticks out his hand, they take it without hesitation.

They don’t know why they thought all Pacts would be the same. Beat’s soul, hovering in the back of their mind before he was taken away, was rough around the edges and loud and _vibrant._ But Neku—well, Neku himself isn’t anything like that, for starters, so it stands to reason that his Pact would feel different, too. It’s more muted in intensity, but there's splashes of color starting to seep through. It’s slower paced, but just as angry—just as stubborn—as Beat’s ever was.

Rhyme wonders what their soul feels like, in the back of Neku’s mind. It feels a little too intimate to ask.

“Okay!” they say, once the light’s dimmed and they’re standing again, together, in the middle of the Scramble. Neku’s hand remains in their own for a moment longer before he lets his grip fall. “First things first. What’s the mission?”

Neku digs in his pocket for his phone, and glances to his palm. “Just getting to 104 again,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got another fifty minutes before we even have to start worrying.”

Do the Reapers make Day 1’s mission easy on purpose, to give Players time to adjust? Even still, Rhyme saw plenty of people Erased, last week, before they could make a Pact. “That’s a good start, then,” they say, clapping their hands. “We’ll be able to get our heads back on straight before we have to really worry about the Noise.”

“My, my—you two are on top of things today, aren’t you?”

Neku stiffens, and Rhyme turns with a frown. A Reaper, he must be—even if he doesn’t have wings. Even if—even if someone in the RG bumps into his shoulder as he stands on the sidewalk, giving him a dirty look for blocking traffic.

“What do you want?” Neku asks warily, stepping forward, in front of Rhyme. “Where’s your wings?”

“That’s quite a leap, Neku,” the boy says, his smile growing an edge to it that Rhyme doesn’t like at all. “I’m not a Reaper. In fact, I have a vested interest in seeing you two win this Game.”

How does he know Neku’s name? Rhyme steps forward too, frowning up at him and preparing to—

“Oh, you must be the surviving Bitou,” he says, playing at surprised as he looks down at them. “You're in for another round, too?”

“She’s my partner, so you can fuck right off,” Neku snarls. The misgendering stings, even though having Neku stick up for them like this reminds them of Beat. It reminds them of...

“I see,” the boy says, and stares hard at Rhyme—maybe, in particular, the two strands around their neck. Beat’s heavy necklace that they refuse to take off, after Mr. H fixed it for them—and CAT’s limited edition pendant. “Well then, maybe you won’t need my help after all.”

“Help?” Neku asks abruptly. “What help?”

“Well, I may still be in the RG, but I know plenty about the Game,” he says, tilting his head at them both. “I can see the UG just fine, obviously. And I watched you both, last week.”

That explains how he knows their names, at least, but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t sit well with Rhyme—and they’re liable to trust their gut. “What’s your name?” they ask stubbornly, and the boy smiles at them.

“Yoshiya Kiryu,” he says, “but Mother and Father call me Joshua.”

.

.

“Hey, Neku?”

Kiryu’s gone—”if you need help with _today’s_ mission, you’re more hopeless than I thought”—and they’re making their way up to 104. They’ve seen more than one pair of people sorting through pins in their hand, lighting up the square with Pacts, glitching into the Noise plane to get the hang of combat. It’s oddly comforting, that there are other Players around them, too. It makes Rhyme feel like they’re a little less alone.

“What’s up?” Neku asks, glancing toward them. He hesitates when he sees their face, pulling one ear cuff back on his head, a little, to hear them better. “What’s wrong?”

There's no one they’ve had the courage to correct on their pronouns, before. Mr. H and Beat both picked it up without them saying anything. They definitely weren't going to tell their parents or teachers, back in the RG. Even their friends—they had planned to, maybe, if they had the guts the next time they hung out, but then they…

They know they look like a girl, and sound like a girl, but—they’re _not._ It feels wrong to be called one.

And if Neku’s going to be their Partner, this week, then he deserves their honesty. They’re just terrified of his response.

“You called me _she_ earlier,” they say, and find that they're wringing their hands as they struggle to continue.

"Uh, yeah…?" Neku says, obviously unsure as he slows to a stop on the sidewalk.

"I'm not a girl," they blurt, before they can change their mind. "I—I don't really have a gender. Could you use _they_ for me instead, please?"

Neku blinks, once, twice, and Rhyme feels their face heating up as their gaze flits around, as their shoulders curl inward. Damnit, they just ruined this Partnership without even finishing the first day—they've failed Beat, and Shiki, and everyone else—"Sorry about that," Neku says suddenly, and Rhyme blinks, focusing again on him. He's rubbing the back of his neck, looking sheepish and kind of guilty. His gaze is trained somewhere around their chin. "I'll remember. Um, Beat mentioned that last week, didn't he? I didn't—"

Rhyme finds themselves smiling. They're impressed Neku was paying enough attention to their introductions to remember names, let alone pronouns. "We all knew you weren't really listening," they say, teasing, and Neku turns a little pink.

"Yeah, well—" he starts, and then cuts himself off, snapping his mouth shut. He's smiling now too, just a little. "I'm different now, right?"

"Yeah," Rhyme says, and grabs his hand before starting again toward 104. "You really are."

.

.

Shiki _really_ wasn't joking when she said Neku was a psych whiz.

They're standing in front of the wall Reaper blocking the way to 104 with forty minutes to spare. He seems to recognize at least one of them—"One Game wasn't enough for you?"—before throwing them some easy Noise to fight.

Rhyme feels like they got a pretty good handle on their combat style last week, with Beat—but fighting alongside Neku kind of feels like standing next to the sun. He's got four combat pins stuck to his collar that he rotates through rapidly, and he's clearly used to a Partner who deals heavy damage alongside his own. Rhyme's a little out of practice, and a little not built for front-line combat, so by the time they're standing in the UG again, they're a little out of breath, a little dizzy.

Beat had been straightforward in his approach: punch the Noise until it stopped moving. Rhyme had plenty of space and opportunity to deal peripheral damage and incapacitate the Noise further with their gongs and sonic damage. But Neku's fast— _really_ fast—and darts all over the Noise plane. They'd been afraid of attacking in case they hit him on accident.

"Heh, seems like you kids need some practice," the Reaper says with a grin, but he lets the wall down. "Stay in the Scramble for a bit, the Noise by 104's tougher."

Neku flips him off, and the Reaper just laughs harder. Still, he grabs Rhyme's hand and pulls them back onto the sidewalk, still firmly in this zone. "So… That was weird," he says bluntly, crossing his arms and frowning. "Shiki just—threw her piggy at things and let it do the work for her. Seems like you fight differently."

Rhyme snorts, and doesn't quite manage to cover it with one hand. If they're being completely honest, their initial impression of Mr. Mew was that he was a pig, too. "Yeah, I feel more comfortable at longer distances," they say. "When I fought with Beat, I stunned or disabled the Noise, and then he went in to attack it. I can do some damage, too, but not as much as you guys."

Neku nods, frowning a little. "I haven't found a pin I can't use yet," he says, and their brows shoot up. "But if you've got support covered, I can focus on attacking at close range."

They nod brightly. "And for the fused attacks… It's hard to describe. It's kind of like playing a game of poker, both of us matching up suits?"

Neku's frowning. "You guys got a harmonizer pin from Mr. H, too?" he asks, tilting his head at the small array of pins on their sweater. Rhyme smiles, and shakes their head.

"I think you guys just got extra help since you were so bad at making friends," they say. It's a gamble, but Neku—he feels different, to them, and they think he'll take it okay. "Beat and I could do it from day one."

Neku's face turns a little red, and he rubs at his eyes briefly, cussing out Mr. H under his breath. "Let's try another round," he says eventually, digging into his pockets to pull out a new set of pins. "Might as well practice while we can."

.

.

If Neku can use any pin, then maybe…

They fidget with Beat's pin, humming quietly. They haven't been able to activate it, no matter how hard they try; it probably has something to do with their wildly different fighting styles. But the uppercuts Neku's been pulling off, the telekinesis where he throws cars or vending machines around like they're Frisbees—it's a fighting style Rhyme thinks Beat would approve of. Maybe Neku could use his pin, too.

There's just the matter of getting past their _terrible_ first impression.

They can still feel scraps of Beat's soul, when they focus very hard, and they know he would probably hate helping out Neku. But he'd be helping Rhyme, by extension, so… They think it's worth a shot.

Fifteen minutes left on the timer, now, and Rhyme's feeling more comfortable fighting alongside Neku. They flip back to the UG from the latest reduction and even see him _grinning_ , just a little, pushing his hair out of his face. "I think we'll be fine," he says to them, and they beam in response. Then, they reach up to unfasten the bull pin.

"I was wondering if you wanted to try using this one."

Neku falters, blinks, and then stares. "I don't…" he squints at it. "What does it do? Aren't you using it?"

They shake their head, bouncing a little on the balls of their feet. "It's Beat's pin," they say, gauging his reaction carefully. "Mr. H saved him, and turned him into a pin to keep him safe. But I haven't been able to use it."

He's shaking his head slowly, his brows furrowing. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he starts, but Rhyme holds it out toward him.

"I think he'd want to help _me,_ if nothing else," they say. "And we're Partners now, right?"

"Sure," Neku says, "but using a pin that's a _person—_ that's kinda—screwed up, you know?"

"I think he'd want to help," Rhyme says, and—and their voice goes low and kind of quiet, for a reason they can't quite articulate. "He—he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to hang out on the sidelines, you know?"

Neku hesitates, then he reaches slowly for the pin. Rhyme thinks it heats up, a little, in their hand before its weight is gone. Neku wraps his fingers around it, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

Then he yelps, nearly dropping the pin and swearing loudly. "He _burned_ me!" he says, accusatory, and Rhyme bursts out laughing.

"He's stubborn, too," they admit, and Neku swears again before shoving it into a pocket.

"I'm not making any promises," he warns, and Rhyme's smile broadens. They guess they can't ask for much more than that.

.

.

Neku’s looking pensive and nervous, scratching absent-mindedly at his upper arms as they stand in front of 104. He’s staring in Rhyme’s direction but doesn’t seem to be looking at them at all; they hesitate before waving a hand in front of his eyes. He startles before focusing properly on their face. “What’s up?”

“You look worried,” they say, tilting their head and bunching their sleeves into their hands. “What’s wrong?”

Neku swallows, and keeps scratching. “My Fee this week,” he says, his gaze skittering around again. “Shades said it’s—it’s Shiki.”

Rhyme grimaces, holds their sweater tighter. They must have missed a _lot,_ last week. Maybe Shiki’s the reason Neku is doing so much better than he was before.

(If a girl he met a week ago is the most important thing in the world to him, then what does that mean for his life before the Game?)

“Well, _I’m_ not planning on losing,” they say after a moment, with a little smile. “I’ve gotta keep Beat safe, right?”

“And get back to your brother,” Neku says with a nod, but they frown at him.

“My brother?” they ask. “I don’t have one—I’m an only child.”

Neku blinks at them, hesitation in his face. He scratches harder at his arms. “Sorry, I must’ve misheard,” he says eventually. “Um, but—yeah. Neither of us can afford to lose, then, right? If we get Erased, then Shiki and Beat…”

He trails off, and keeps scratching. Rhyme frowns. They can see welts starting to appear on his pale skin. It’s letting out nervous energy; it’s something to do so he doesn’t have to sit still. They saw Beat do it too, last week, when he constantly grabbed for their hand, or fiddled with his hat, or rolled his skateboard under one foot. It’s not a _bad_ thing, but they think probably that the scratching isn’t great. Neku needs something else to distract him.

“Hey, can we go get something to eat before the day’s over?” they ask, forcing cheer into their voice. Neku has enough to worry about without getting self-conscious about it.

“Sure,” he says with a nod. When Rhyme offers him their hand, he only hesitates for a moment before taking it in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> megumi: hey you should be a reaper  
> rhyme: fuck you, i gotta get back to my brother  
> megumi: oh, well, that makes your fee easy at least (:

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter [@laoraahh](https://twitter.com/laoraahh) if you wanna yell about twewy w me
> 
> also the zalgo'd text partway through the chapter says "Beat"


End file.
